


for you are a light, my dear

by donutcats



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Love Confessions, commission, it focuses mainly on jester and caleb, nott shows up mostly through Messages, the others are mentioned briefly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 04:00:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20594342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donutcats/pseuds/donutcats
Summary: “You are far from useless, Jester.” His fingers still in his ministrations, as he smooths out part of the bandage. “You are the strongest person I know, and when you are not tired, you are quite possibly the best Cleric. You are just drained, that is all, and that is ok. You are not useless at all, Schatz.”Caleb and Jester get separated from the group, wounds are treated, and confessions are made.





	for you are a light, my dear

**Author's Note:**

> this was a commission for [corkboard](https://cork-board-of-fandoms.tumblr.com/) on tumblr! I hope you all enjoy it too.

The thing about a cave in, is that you never quite expect it. Even when you’re battling a large demon that’s ripped it’s way through from the nine hells, in an ancient sort of underground tunnel system, and the stress of the battle shows not only on the bodies of your compatriots, but also in the cracks in the stone. 

Jester had been at the back of the line with him, as they all funneled their way back through the maze like passageways, trying to find a spot to settle down for the night. They were all tired and bruised and battered, and Jester was quietly talking to him about how she was so sorry she couldn’t help more, how she really thought Toll the Dead would work that time. He softly reassures her, tapping his knuckles against the back of her hand, until she’s smiling. She did her absolute best, and they’re all alive to show for it.

She loops her arm with his, pulling him closer, and he hides a smile into the collar of his coat. He allows it, doesn’t pull away, because it’s Jester. Because Jester is affectionate and loving and never expects anything in return. She holds Beau’s hand, forces Fjord to give her piggyback rides, kisses Nott on the cheek. It’s the way Jester shows her love, and he could never turn that away.

If he is being honest with himself, in this quiet moment where they trail behind the others, as she shifts from one topic to the next, her voice still low as if this conversation is meant for no one else; a selfish part of him collects these moments, tucks them away in the most intimate parts of his heart. She’s not talking about anything pressing, not really, as she goes on about wanting to go back to the bakery in Uthadurn, and how baking is messy and takes a lot but maybe she should try it out at least once. But her fingers press into the soft point below the inside of his elbow, and her voice doesn’t raise, and all of her attention is focused on him. 

It’s like having your own personal little sun, cradled in your hands, and he feels impossibly warm. 

They’re both sore, and she has a noticeable limp, and his ribs give a creak as he walks, but he’ll remember this moment. He remembers everything, but especially this, right here. The way he can feel the outline of her horn against his shoulder, the hand not holding his arm playing with the edge of his sleeve. 

When he looks up, away from the smattering of navy blue freckles along the bridge of her nose that remind him of stars, he realizes they’ve lagged behind far more than they should have. The group is rounding a sharp corner far ahead, and he watches as Caduceus hunches over to fit the tunnel. Nott catches his gaze, rolling her eyes as she turns on her heel to make her way back towards the two of them. He wants to wave her away, but he knows they should stick together. They aren’t out of the woods just yet, and it would be stupid to get seperated just because he’s enjoying this small bubble of peace.

All it takes is one shove from Beau, sending Fjord to knock into a wall of the tunnel, a cut off laugh turning into a sound of surprise, for the whole thing to shift and shake and tumble down with a great commotion. There’s yelling from everyone, and when the dust settles, there’s a large pile of rocks and chunks of stone barring the way. 

Caleb sits up, and it’s now he realizes he somehow found his way to the ground, but he knocks against something. Blinking again, Jester comes into focus. She’s staring at the stone, a panicked expression painted across her features, and half of her body angled into Caleb. He gets the distinct impression, with her hand planted near his own, that in the commotion she acted as a shield for him. He feels a swell of gratitude, which is quickly folded away to better inspect later. 

There’s no time to sit and pick apart the swell of fondness at this simple action. Now, there’s the glaring problem of being separated. Caleb does not miss the irony of it. This must be dealt with before anything else. Jester scrambles over to the wall of stones and obstacles, and starts to grab at any loose bits she can, clearing them away.

“Beau! Nott! Hello? Are you ok?!” 

In the same moment, Caleb gets a Message from Nott, her frantic high pitched voice filling his mind as she rambles about being safe and asking if they’re ok and he can reply to this message. 

“We are all in one piece,_ ja.” _

Jester stumbles back with a startled squeak, a rock as big as his head tucked into her arms, and the rest of his reply dies on his tongue as he watches the entire structure shift. Without thinking, he reaches forward and pulls Jester closer, farther away from the rock wall. With his other hand he fishes out his length of copper wire.

“It is very unstable on our end. We can not move too much of it without risking the whole thing to collapse.” 

_ “Same here! Beau is trying to use her hands as shovels and Fjord is all tapped out for anything magic.” _ In a stage whisper, she adds. _ “Between you me I thought the whole Wildmother thing would make him a little more powerful but the poor fella still gets tired easily. Talk about men of the cloth not having any stamina.” _ Follow by a startled noise that he assumes means Fjord overheard. 

The wire twists in his fingers, but he stops, his eyes snagging on the sight of Jester, a hand splayed out in front of her, eyes screwed shut. Pink magic sparks and sizzles on her palms, but nothing comes to fruition. A frustrated yell punches it’s way out of her, and she kicks at a few loose pebbles. Then, she’s sinking to her knees, the rock cradled in her lap. Her lip wobbles. He tucks the copper wire into his palm for now.

The toes of his boots kick up small clouds of dust as he comes to stand in front of her. Jester doesn’t look up, just picks at a small imperfection in the rock. “I was trying to polymorph,” she tells him, unprompted, like she knows he’s always filled with questions. That’s something they have in common, he thinks lightly. They both are always so curious in drastically different ways. “But I used up almost all of my magic. I _ knew _ I should have saved some of it.” The last bit is grumbled low to herself.

Caleb settles down next to her with a soft sigh, using the wall behind them to ease the strain on his body, and when she angles around to face him, he catches the way she winces. He’s about to ask her about it, about the small bloom of red he can see on the bottom hem of her dress, but before he can, her hand is snapping up to touch his face. Her fingers are light but searching, moving up to touch at his forehead.

“Oh no, Caleb you’re bleeding! Oh, I wish Caduceus did that mass heal after the fight. I guess I get why he wanted to save it for when we all settled down in your dome but, oh boy it could have _ really _helped.” There’s a faint glow of that warm pink that her magic holds, he can see it in his periphery, as the unique sensation of healing magic spreads across his temple, down into the weariness of his bones. It’s not much, not at all, but it helps him breathe a little better.

“Ah. Thank you. I thought you had used up your magic?”

“Oh! Well, _ now _ I did. I’m sorry, I didn’t think Caleb! You were just bleeding and I got really worried and it wasn’t even that strong of a healing spell but I should have asked first at least, what if I could have used that magic for something else?” 

“It is ok, Jester. Do not worry yourself too much.” 

Her hand is still on his face, the lingering warmth of her magic settled in her skin, but she snatches it away in the next second, her eyes lighting up with an idea. Both hands come up to her mouth, hovering there in that excited way of hers. He tightly boxes up the feeling of missing that warmth.

“Oh, your dome! You always plan for your dome right? Do you have any magic left for like, your Cat’s Paw thing?” She leans further into him, trying to hide the wince asher leg jostles along the tunnel floor.

“No matter the means, if we try to move that barricade in any way, it might pose far more problems when it collapses. Besides, I am more worried about you, after all. You should have saved some healing for yourself.” And now he indicates the spreading patch of blood along her leg, soaking through her tights.

“Wha? Oh, it’s nothing.” She tries to wave it off, but her voice has that certain tired tone to it. The burst of excitement ebbs away, leaving nothing but a resigned sort of exhaustion in its wake. “We could always loop around, maybe? There has to be another way!”

“I do not think your leg is in any condition to be, ah, trekking around.” He points out, as gently as he can. 

She holds her hands palm up and pouts at them. Small sparks of magic crackle against her skin yet again, bright and pink, but they fizzle out quickly. “I can’t do _ anything.” _ Her voice wobbles.

“I would not say that.” He says, because he can’t help himself. Because it’s Jester and she should never be so upset. “You did plenty, earlier. I do not think I would be alive if it were not for you.”

The wire wraps and unwraps around Caleb’s fingers. It gives him something tangible to focus on, to ground him as he tries to navigate his way through this. 

Jester hums, a small giggle tucked into the sound. “You _ really _ are not very sturdy Caleb. We _ have _ to fix that, I don’t want you to die!”

“With you looking out for me, I do not think I need to worry much.” He smiles as he says it, or what he hopes is a smile. His mouth isn’t used to moving in that way very much. Her shoulders relax though, so he counts that as a win. 

Jester’s returning smile falls a bit, gets that worried angle to it again, and something sours in Caleb’s chest. He hates seeing her like that. The pink magic tries yet again, her hand hovering above her leg, but still nothing. The sour feeling ungulates, his mind working for a solution. 

His hands are already reaching into his pockets, knowing exactly where he keeps a spare set of bandages. Nott had stuffed them into his hands and told him he could never be too careful. He didn’t think he’d ever use them, but he tucked them into a coat pocket for her piece of mind. As he unravels the cloth, he silently thanks Nott for being so mother-hen like. “Here, let me.”

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Jester scoffs, a playful note hidden underneath. She then takes the bandages from him. “Maybe the _ Cleric _ should be doing this.” 

He can’t help the smile that threatens to make it’s return. “By all means, I will let the Cleric do her job.” Caleb sits back and watches as Jester fumbles with the bandage, and he takes the time to send a quick Message to Nott. The connection isn’t quite as strong, like she’s not as close as she was before. He relays the information about them both being just as taped out as Fjord, which Nott replies with a scoff lined by much concern. 

Before his mind can race with possibilities and solutions too match, the white cloth bandages are being shoved back into his hands, Jester pressing her mouth together. “Ok, so. I’m not very good at this and I might need help. Oh _ pretty please.” _ Her hands clasp together, and he can see her tail twitch. Caleb finds himself quietly chuckling as he goes about what he remembers from the days before he had two clerics in his life.

The quiet stretches on, as Caleb methodically works and Jester does her best to help, as she hums a tune that feels achingly familiar but he can’t put a name to. She switches songs every so often, but they all tend to blend together, one into the other into another. 

“I’m sorry I can’t do anything.” She whispers, her magic once again sparking on her fingers. He thinks it’s just a habit, because he does the same sometimes. Even when he’s tired and can’t manage anything at all, he still tries. “I’m sorry I’m useless.” Jester starts to cry then, her eyes welling up and her chest hiccuping with sobs, trying to fold into herself but he watches as she flinches from the pain. It was bubbling up for some time, he can tell, and now in this small respite it breaks out of her.

“You are far from useless, Jester.” His fingers still in his ministrations, as he smooths out part of the bandage. “You are the strongest person I know, and when you are not tired, you are quite possibly the best Cleric. You are just drained, that is all, and that is ok. You are not useless at all, _ Schatz.” _ The endearment slips out, and he tries not to let it show, even as his tongue catches at the back of his teeth and he can feel a flush crawl it’s way up his neck. 

The tears continue to trail down her cheeks, but he can feel her looking at him. The weight of her eyes is like a warmth on his own cheek. Reminiscent of her magic, in a way. “What does that word mean?” Her voice is still quiet, still fragile and soft. “Schatz. I’ve heard you say it before.”

_ “Sweetheart.” _ The heat continues to crawl, and now he definitely avoids her eyes. His gut reaction is to deflect, but something in his throat refuses to let him. Because he says things to Jester that he wouldn’t normally say to others, because she doesn’t judge the things he says or does. “Because you are so sweet, naturally.” 

“Aw, Caleb. Are you secretly in _ looove _with me.” Jester giggles through a sniffle, wiping at her eyes with the back of a hand. She says it to everyone, is the thing, it’s a little joke she uses all the time because it makes people smile. “Because you know, I would totally be ok with that, if you like, were.” She starts to ramble, but the words settle heavy, he can feel them in the hinges of his jaw and the joints of his wrists and all the small spaces where his bones meet.

Caleb focuses on his task, wrapping the bandage around and around. The lines are uneven, his fingers twitch to take it apart and start from the beginning, but he soldiers on. Because the silence is growing, because something about Jester shifts and the teasing falls away, and when he looks up at her, she’s blinking at him.

“Did I- I’m sorry did I make you uncomfortable! I didn’t _ mean _ to Caleb. I was just saying that like, if you _ were _ in love with me that would be ok because I’m- oh it’s- just forget it!” She trips over her own words, her hands fluttering up to hide her face away.

“Jester, it’s ok.” Caleb softens his voice, thoughts and memories fitting together like a puzzle piece in his mind. “I was not offended at all. I just, did not know how to answer. I uh, did not want to lie to you.”

“Really?” She whispers, and he can see a peak of her eye through her fingers. “Why?”

“Oh, you know why.” His voice has gone gruff, that itching feeling of wanting to deflect rearing its head. The flush is back, conquering most of his face and working it’s way to the back of his neck, and now he can’t seem to meet her eyes. He tucks the free edge of the bandage into itself. She breathes out another_ really? _, and the wonder and disbelief in her voice is what finally has him looking at her, locking eyes with her. Eye contact has always been hard for him. He never knows which eye to look at, exactly, and it’s always felt a bit uncomfortable. But he does it, now, because it’s important. Because Jester’s eyes have always held so much in them.

“Do you really mean that?” The words are still quiet, like if she speaks too loudly, the confirmation in his tone will blow away. Her hands find his, much like she always does. Whenever something important is happening between them, she links their hands and looks into his face and it makes everything so much easier and harder at the same time.

He manages a nod, squeezing her fingers when she sniffles. 

“If you’re just saying this to make me feel better, that’s ok Caleb. I mean, like, it would kind of be messing with my feelings and that’s super fucked up, but I’d also understand that you don’t like when people cry so you’re trying to cheer me up, and I really do appreciate that.” 

She starts to talk, in that endearing run on sentence way of hers, voice still breathy from crying. She’s trying to give him an out, he realizes, trying to smooth things over so she won’t feel hurt. That won’t do. Someone like Jester should never feel like love is a joke. The sour feeling in his chest unravels, knots into something different. Something that bolsters him with some courage.

“You’re a light that never goes out, Jester.” He cups her face, her cheek resting in the curve of his palm. Her mouth snaps shut, cutting off part of her next sentence. “Even in the darkest moments, you continue to flicker.” Her eyes are wide, and he swears there’s an ever present shine to them. Something bright that can never quite dull. He’s silent for a moment, working the words through in his mind, turning them over and stringing them together until he knows how he wants to say it. It’s something he’s always done, especially when he’s speaking in common and sometimes he forgets the right words for what he wants to say. 

Jester sits, quiet, her fingers loosley grasped around his wrist. Silent and waiting, and that warmth grows inside of him, because she’s so patient and he feels so undeserving. 

“You remind me that, I was a good person, once. When I am with you, it is not so hard to be that person again. You make it very easy to want to be better. You are a little candle that guides me through the dark, into something_ better.” _ A smile creeps onto his mouth, tugs at the edges of his lips. It’s a bit bittersweet, tinged with memories that he thinks he’s ready to tell her about, maybe when they get out of this mess. “How could I not love you, _ Schatz?” _

Her eyes shine, and her mouth wobbles. Her hand has drifted up to hold his own, that’s still on her cheek. “Oh _ Cayleb.” _In the next instant she’s throwing herself into his arms, pressing her face into the curve of his neck, right where it meets his jaw. “This is so much better than any story I’ve ever read.” Her words are wet against his skin, the slide of fresh tears on her mouth. 

“You are the best thing to happen to me, Jester Lavorre.” Caleb whispers into her hair, and she clings to him, the wound forgotten for this small moment that Caleb will fold away and remember forever. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you like my writing, please check out;  
[my twitter!](https://twitter.com/kaijucats)  
[my tumblr!](https://donutcats.tumblr.com/)


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